Lessons Yet Unlearned
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Stuck in the rigmarole of yet another year teaching at Downton School Phyllis Baxter is pleasantly surprised, and more than a little confused, by the attraction she feels for the new English teacher Joe Molesley. As the staff room's designated romantic disaster zone she really hopes she can do something differently this time where Joe is concerned.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so this is going to be my "what if** ** _Teachers_** **and** ** _Downton_** **did a cross-over AU because Phyllis Baxter and Susan Gately are so similar" story. For anyone who didn't see** ** _Teachers_** **, basically, Raquel Cassidy's character was called Susan Gately and she was as gorgeous and sexy and funny as Phyllis Baxter, only more overtly so because evolving gender roles throughout the twentieth century, etc. Anyway, if something in this story seems to jar a bit with the Downton canon it may be because it's meant to reflect the** ** _Teachers_** **canon instead. This is indeed a Baxley story because both Phyllis and Susan deserve at least not to be the designated romantic disaster zone of the cast (though this first chapter may mess with that a bit, just bear with). Also, I'm not going to plan this overall story arch because my real work is stressful enough at the minute, I'm just going to see where it goes.**

 _19/12/2015_

She woke up abruptly in the middle of the night. It was a weird nervous habit of hers almost, whenever she'd gotten absolutely plastered, she would never sleep for long. Ironically it was the only sure fire way to wake her body up; give her substantial drink (more substantial than the usual evening). She would wake up, bright, bold, alert, though not necessarily without remorse or slight nausea. The hangover would emerge later. The awakening was cold and lucid.

But not, in this case, lonely.

She froze. All of her, aching, muscles tensed as she shifted her leg and her foot brushed against something in bed beside her. Glancing down at the duvet cover, she checked that she was definitely at her place - she was. She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling for a long long moment of astonishment and mounting incredulity before she could bring herself to look over to the other side of her bed.

It wouldn't exactly be right to say that Joe Molesley was the last person she expected to see there, but somehow she was still surprised. And, if she was honest, a little disappointed. Not that she was disappointed that it was him,-… she just had never imagined that now,-… like this….

You'd never imagine that she'd somehow manage to drag Joe Molesley into bed with her the night of the Downton School staff Christmas Party, to put it in the mildest terms possible. Shit. Even put mildly, it didn't exactly cast her in a glowing light. Shit.

She leant over a little further, checking that he was still asleep. Why it mattered she couldn't exactly say, but he showed no signs of the post-alcohol insomniac jitters. Alright for some. To be absolutely fair, he didn't exactly look like a man coerced, from what little you can tell when someone is asleep. His body was relaxed, spread out quite naturally in her bed. She really wanted to believe that that unconscious smile on his face was there because of her, rather than some vodka-fuelled dream he was having.

She sank back into the mattress as softly as she could in her exasperation, raising a distracted hand to her forehead and letting out a soft breath.

For all kinds of reasons, this should not have happened. For a start, she'd said that sleeping with people after staff parties was something she absolutely did not do anymore. Secondly, she'd not known Joe Molesley long, he'd only been at Downton for a term. Not that, in and of itself mattered, but, for a third, the part of her that had allowed herself to cautiously and prematurely hope that something might happen between them had sure as hell not hoped that it would be a quick, drunken, bang after the Christmas party. Which, if past experience or weird Downton folkloric wisdom has any substance in it, was all this was now destined to be.

 _Well played, Phyllis_ , she thought to herself, _absolutely first-class screw-up. Well done._

She vowed never to drink again. She vowed to drink as much as necessary to forget about this as soon as she was physically able.

It took her a moment to come out of her reverie of self-flagellation enough to realise that he seemed to be stirring at the other side of the bed.

 _Shit!_ she thought again, _Don't wake up. At least, not until I've had the chance to go._ Go? Go where? This was where she lived. Unless she was thinking of climbing down the drainpipe of her own house. For God's sake-…

It was too late now, he'd opened his eyes and she'd not even got one leg out of bed properly. She decided to admit defeat, threw the duvet back over it. It would be better, in the long run, to face the music now.

The little smile that had been on his mouth before somehow widened a little bit as he opened his eyes a fraction and saw that she was still there.

"Hello," he said to her. His voice was surprisingly soft, surprisingly low. His hair was all ruffled up and he looked pleasantly sleepy, but she couldn't afford to be distracted by that now.

"Hello," she replied nervously.

And then he did something she hadn't been expecting in the slightest; he sat up a little, and kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

 **Please review if you have the time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**right, so this chapter was meant to be a flashback to their meeting but, you know what, i thought, let's do the christmassy bit at actual christmas (hope you like it). happy christmas. (but i will still do all the flashback and build-up afterwards).**

 _Half a minute later._

It would not be fair to him to say that Joe Molesley was not a man of surprises. To be absolutely honest, she had not expected him to want to hang around long enough to kiss her. Let alone kiss her like that.

By the time they parted from the gentlest, most loving kiss she'd had in years, she was even more surprised, even more bloody confused, than she had been when she'd woken up.

She watched him carefully as his face moved far enough away for her eyes to focus on him. He was smiling again, a little more broadly than he had done in his sleep.

"I'm so pleased this happened," he told her.

"Really?" she asked him, "Are you? I mean," she amended hastily, seeing his crestfallen expression, "Shit, that's not what I meant-… Sorry. I meant, are _you_ pleased it happened, with me?"

He looked at her for a second longer in incomprehension.

"Yes," he told her plainly, watching her carefully, and not without a fraction of concern, "What are you on about? Who else?"

"I don't know," she replied, "It's not-… who else. It's-… I had no idea you liked me in that way."

He looked at her disbelievingly.

"Well, not that much," she qualified, "There's no reason why you should, either. In fact more reason that you wouldn't," she went on, "After everything you know about me. The divorce for one thing. And everything else."

"Phyllis," he asked her softly, "Do you remember anything that happened last night? Clearly, I mean."

"Not a lot," she confessed, rubbing a hand down the bridge of her nose, trying in vain to cast her mind back.

His eyes were fixed on her in a way that she'd seen him do before, in odd moments when they were alone together. It was more intense now though, and she could not believe she hadn't realised what it meant before.

"You were incredible," he told her in a low voice, "You were-… gorgeous, loving, unbelievably sexy," she flushed a little as he continued, "I never imagined for a second that you might fancy me in return, but then you-…" he trailed off, clearly deciding it was best not to say whatever she'd done if she didn't remember, she didn't know if she was grateful or not, "Do you think I care that you've been divorced? Do you think I care that you were a bit wild when you were sixteen and went off the rails? Well, obviously, that's to say, I do, for your sake, of course. But I don't _mind_ , it doesn't make me think any less of you, god, how could I mind? Phyllis, I like you far too much for any of that to make any difference.:

She bowed her head as she listened to him. As she looked up, a smile broke onto her face.

"So you don't mind," she asked, "That this has all happened a bit suddenly? I was worried I'd spoiled it."

"In a way I'm very relieved," he told her, "It means I don't have to make a complete arse of myself trying to find the right way to ask if you fancy going for a drink."

She laughed softly.

"Fair enough," she replied, "I suppose it also saves me making an arse of myself wondering what exactly you mean by asking me out for a drink."

He chuckled too.

"I'd started to wonder too," he confided in her, "Trying to work out how on earth I was going to ask you. I had a desperate idea of trying to catch you under some mistletoe at the party tonight."

"Well, you didn't need that in the end," she told him softly. She was lying back down beside him now, half-curled on her side, facing him, watching him in the semi-darkness, "There was some knocking about I think."

"Yes, there was," he replied, "Thomas was super-intending it. I wouldn't have bloody dared with him standing over me."

She chuckled a little.

"He means well," she told him, "He just… takes the piss sometimes."

"Yeah," he agreed, "Enough to make me lose my nerve, anyway."

She smiled sympathetically at him, reaching out, stroking his chest softly.

"I'm so happy this doesn't have to be the end," she told him, "Of us. Bit of a bloody strange beginning, but it's better than the end."

Gently, he picked up her hand from his chest, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm.

"Me too," he agreed.


End file.
